


Never One (Without The Other)

by KingsAndThieves (TehLotteh)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien internalises everything, Babies need to balance, Chat Noir is Black Cat for linguistic reasons, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Kung Fu Panda AU, Kwami are a metaphor for chi, M for violence later on, Marinette is too confident in her luck, Possible Character Death, inspired by the KFP franchise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-27 16:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6292441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehLotteh/pseuds/KingsAndThieves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Kung Fu Panda AU]<br/>For Black Cat and Ladybug, being told your power was almost entirely reliant on your co-operation with another person was one of the worst pieces of news possible, topped only by the knowledge that said partner was the person you loathed the most in the world. Ladybug was too cocky and set in her ways, and Black Cat was too closed and untrusting. Add in the feudal war between the European invaders, headed by Gabriel Agreste, and the locals who fought tooth and claw not to be eradicated, and there really couldn't be a more unlikely partnership.</p><p>The one thing they share in common is that they're both dead set on running away from their past, and when the past comes baying for blood, inner peace is the last thing on their mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome all, and I hope you enjoy the ride! After watching the third Kung Fu Pana film I got bit by the bunny and, well, this is the result (also because I listen to the soundtracks while I write so this was bound to happen).
> 
> I will say now that I am taking artistic license with history here. My specialism is West Europe so although I am trying to do research to be as accurate as possible, I'm not going to put all my effort in it to detract from the flow of the story. It's an AU, things are going to be different, and on a second note my knowledge of martial arts is amateur at best, so I apologise if any fight scenes read like a train wreck.
> 
> Either way if you dive in, I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to let me know if there are any problems that need fixing or anything you'd like to see more of~

 

As a child, Adrien Agreste always considered himself to be extremely fortunate. He had parents who loved him, who gave him their all. He had a wealthy enough family to be treated to the finest the province had to offer, the best food, the best silks, everything. He had his own large room within the palace his father owned, a large plush bed with painted scrolls on every wall, priceless heirlooms sitting on stands that glowed when the sun set just so. The scrolls depicted great cats, large tigers in burning orange and pale white, lions with manes that crowned their heads like the kings they were. Large black cats like panthers and jaguars stared at him from between inky leaves, their eyes watching over him as he slept in the too big bed for him.

He could want for nothing, but the thing he treasured most was his brother.

Not a blood brother, but closer, for although Félix had originally been brought in as his father's protégé after showing great talent in the martial art of kung fu, he and Adrien had become thick as thieves to the point that they did everything together. Félix was older than him by two years, but everyone said that the two looked a lot alike. Both had blond hair and green eyes, and while Adrien was blessed with his mother's angelic face, Félix's own features were a little harsher and more rugged. As the two grew older, despite being put through almost identical training processes, differences in build started to become more prominent. Adrien kept insisting it was only because he was younger that he was less bulky, but Félix had quickly developed a broad chest and broader shoulders, filling out into muscle with ease. Adrien remained extremely lean, so much so that Félix had changed his nickname from “kitty”, after his love of cats, to “twiggy”, insisting that he was so slender he'd snap if anyone fell on him.

Reaching their early to mid-teens, they spent more and more time training together, Gabriel Agreste welcoming his protégé properly into his family. His wife was more than ecstatic to have a second son, even though Adrien was still her precious love, and Félix never seemed to mind. He would often tease the younger boy and call him a delicate flower or a ray of sunshine, but it was always with good humour and a smile on his face.

When Adrien got accosted in the market by some older boys who hated his rich family and his well-off lifestyle, it was Félix who threw the first punch. When Adrien caught the flu and spent almost a month sick in bed, it was Félix who sat with him every evening to read him stories, to feed him warm soup and keep him hydrated.

When his mother disappeared one day without a trace, it was Félix who slipped into his bed and held him to his chest as he cried out all his pain and confusion, his own heart stuck in his throat as he was unable to answer the questions choked out between sobs.

_Why?_

_When is she coming back?_

_Wasn't I good enough for her?_

_Was my love not good enough?_

_Why won't father smile at me any more?_

As a child, Adrien Agreste always considered himself to be extremely fortunate.

As an adolescent, he knew he couldn't have been further from the truth.

Things he used to take as signs of love and adoration twisted into something else. The hours of attention his father would give him, encouraging him to train and become the best he could be, became hours of being moulded into the perfect heir, the perfect weapon. The wealth, the silks, the gifts all became tokens meant to isolate him from society. He started to grow suspicious of his father's vague and slightly shady 'plans' for their settlement: _uniting a divided front_ in order to create _one co-existing society_ seemed to be too sweet to be true.

It was always only a matter of time.

 

* * *

 

He was distantly aware of his father stepping in to the training room, hovering in the corner with his arms folded across his chest. Grey eyes critically observed every motion the two boys made, watching as blows were blocked and strikes were traded, actions so fast that they were almost a blur as they pushed themselves to the limit.

Félix, it seemed, also noticed the man's presence as he pushed his training up a notch, forcing Adrien to return his full attention to their spar.

Just turned seventeen and now almost fully grown into his adult body, Adrien still lacked the physical strength of his brother in arms, but what he lacked in power he made up for in speed. He was agile, he was nimble, and he was dexterous. He could run tightrope lines with far more ease than Félix, and his reflexes were far sharper and more honed. Still, it meant that he was left on the defensive while his arms started to ache, knowing that the bruises he would sport from blocking punch after punch were going to be more than a little tender come the morning.

Without warning Félix lunged for him and Adrien did the only thing he could think to do; he jumped. Using the other man's momentum he pushed himself up, flipping his body up over the top and landing behind him with a stumbling step, but that was all the leeway Félix needed. A kick caught him straight in the back as he made to turn, and the next thing he knew he was pinned to the floor, Félix's hand resting over his exposed throat. The two were breathing heavily, chests rising and falling as their body tried to make up for the oxygen they had used in their exertion, but soon enough Félix broke into a wide grin and stepped back, holding a hand out to pull Adrien up to his feet. He was quick to pull him into a brief hug, clapping him on the back before parting once more.

“Perhaps I'll have to start calling you kitty again,” he chuckled, eyes dancing brightly. “I knew you could move, but I didn't think you'd manage to clear my height with only one hand to push off from. Shame you didn't nail the landing; if you'd been more sure on your feet I wouldn't have caught you like that.”

“Nah, you won fair and square,” Adrien smiled softly, rubbing at his forearms that had been put through so much abuse during that fight. “It would have been wiser for me to roll to the side than over the top but I just.. I didn't think. I acted instead.”

“If you'd made to roll I likely would have still caught you, I would have just had to trip you.”

Adrien shrugged a little, eyes flicking nervously to his father in the corner who, so far, had moved neither body nor expression. When they were younger this was where he would be greeted with a bright smile and warm words of praise, but since his mother's disappearance he'd been lucky to even get a word out of the man unless it was to scold him. He refused to turn his head to make complete eye contact, but the constant glances were starting to make anxiety knot in his stomach. Why wouldn't he just do something?

Félix caught his thoughts and stepped up to him, wrapping an arm over his shoulder in an attempt to distract him. “Want to go hit the hot springs for a little? I dare say we could both do with relaxing after that.”

“That won't be necessary.”

The cold voice that cut through the room almost made Adrien whimper, and he knew he had instinctively curled up because Félix's grip on his shoulder had tightened, fingers digging in just a little to ground him. He suddenly regretted wishing his father would do more than just stand there, his heart now beating ten to the dozen.

He remained silent even as Gabriel gestured for them to approach, Félix letting go of him so he could have the pride of making his way over on his own. Once they were stood before him Félix dropped into a respectful bow, Adrien hesitating only a moment before doing the same. This was his own father, and yet he terrified him.

“Adrien, that jump you tried to perform was foolish. Against anyone with a weapon and you'd be dead and useless by now.”

“I'm sorry, father.”

“Your blocks were sloppy. Your core control is off.” He frowned slightly, though with a hint more than just disappointment. Glancing up through his hair, Adrien dared to hope that it was a glimmer of concern he could see. “You've been unsteady for some months now. I'll speak to your tutor about changing your routine. Perhaps you are not eating enough.”

He wasn't eating enough, he knew that. He'd not been feeling right in himself and not been able to concentrate or devote himself fully. He'd not been the same since losing his mother. If his father needed to talk to his tutor about the problem, then he really wasn't much of a father any more.

“I won't let it happen again, father.”

“It won't. Now,” Gabriel softened just enough that the two could relax their position, straightening a little as he addressed them. “Félix, you may leave us. There are some lessons it's high time I taught my son.”

Adrien flashed the other blond a brief glance of desperation knowing his eyes would be wide as saucers and more than a little obvious in their plea not to be left alone, but neither one of them were willing to disobey Gabriel Agreste, and so he was left to helplessly watch as his friend stepped out of the room and shut the door, leaving him alone to wallow in his nerves. The silence stretched on for what felt like ages, forcing himself to hold his head high as Gabriel studied him with a critical eye, taking in his sweat matted hair and his flushed skin, slender body and trembling muscles.

All of a sudden he felt a large hand on his shoulder, looking up as Gabriel squeezed, a slight smile playing on his face.

“I'm so proud of you, Adrien,” he spoke, unaware of the lance it shot through his son's heart. _Proud. He was proud._ That one display of affection did more to him than any substance ever could have, and he could already feel the light-headed sensation of euphoria washing over him.

 _He's proud of me_.

He wanted to say something, to thank him, to promise that he would always try harder, but his lips wouldn't co-operate and he had to settle for a muted nod, eyes continuing to watch him for any tell-tale signs or gestures that would help direct the conversation.

“You know you've always been my heir,” he continued, removing his hand from his shoulder to place a finger under his chin, tilting his head up so that he could look at him properly. His face that was so like his mother's, something carved of beauty and entirely too delicate to belong on the body of a trained warrior, caught the dim light of the room just so. “I think it's finally time to start involving you with the business properly. Your training is almost complete, and I'm sure with time you will bulk up eventually. For now, I want to show you how we run things, how we maintain order and discipline. I don't doubt that you will help bring this city to greatness.”

It was the greatest display of trust that Adrien could think of, and knew that this was the one time in his life he really, really couldn't mess it up. He closed his eyes a moment, not trusting them to water with the honour of the gesture, before simply nodding, fists clenching slightly in an attempt to maintain his composure.

“Thank you, father. I promise I won't let you down.”

“You won't,” came the response, although it felt more threat than agreement. “However, there is one thing I must teach you first. Come.”

He removed his hand from him completely and turned, walking with the assumption that Adrien would follow. The boy obediently kept to his heels, silent but in step, wondering what it was that he would be introduced to first. Although Félix was older and more competent, it had always been made clear that his position within the family was purely sentimental. He would no doubt be given a good position within the military, perhaps as a general, because even though his familiar position with the Agreste's wouldn't be taken into account, he was a damn good fighter.

The role as heir and successor had always been, and always would be, solely Adrien's.

He'd anticipated going to his father's office, learning how to take care of paperwork or accounts or making sure the right people got what they needed and other such stuff that most people would likely consider boring, but was the routine that Adrien enjoyed. Sitting down and letting his body rest for half an hour sounded like a dream at that point, so when they turned to descend towards the basement part of their palace, he couldn't help but feel a little confused. He'd never been allowed down there, always assuming it was for storage or confidential work of his father's.

“Now, Adrien, I believe it's time I taught you the ancient imperial art that has been the key to our survival since we first came to these lands. Tell me, son, what do you know about manipulating chi?”

It was ironic, really, that even though he was currently eager to keep close in his footsteps and drink up all the knowledge and attention his father had to offer, in under twelve hours later he would be hurrying to put as much distance between the two of them as possible, going so far as to leave his home and everything he knew behind him with only the clothes on his back to keep him warm and the memory of those calculating, grey eyes to chase him away.

 

* * *

 

Growing up in the lap of luxury, stealing had been something Adrien had always believed himself to be above. Taking food from those who no doubt needed it more was a blow too low for even him to consider dealing, which was all well and good when considering a hypothetical life out on his own.

Faced with the reality of almost a week of no food and little water while pushing his body to its limits in his desire to keep on the move, he was rapidly coming to realise that his morality would have to be stifled for a short hour or so.

He'd tried begging for food, knocking on doors of farming houses or calling to young children in an attempt to persuade them to help him, but he looked too much like a stereotypical imperial. In these parts, especially in the poorer country-side, blond hair was completely unheard of. His pale skin and light hair could do nothing but mark him as offspring from the European invaders, no matter how long ago that may have been, and since they all lived in the city in their warm houses with plates that were always full, seeing him begging was nothing short of insulting. How dare a city boy claim to be hungry? He could just go back to the capital and eat all he wanted, throwing out the scraps as an insult to all those who had to work hard to even feed their children.

His only saving grace was that nobody recognised him as the son of the head of the city, although there weren't many males that fit his body type with sun-kissed hair and eyes that sparkled like emeralds. He hadn't seen any posters asking for his return, at least, so it was possibly a safe assumption to presume that the news of his escape hadn't caught up to him yet.

If adolescent Adrien believed himself to be in possession of anything but misfortune, perhaps he might have allowed himself to relax.

The first time he stole, it had taken him four hours of debate and two crippling bouts of stomach contractions to convince himself that his little crime would be worth it. He found the nastiest market-stall owner he could in order to lessen the guilt, and reassured himself that a few missing dumplings were fair karma for the fact that the man had beat his younger, female assistant for a mistake in the pricing. He had waited until he was distracted with another customer before making his way over, swiping the precious morsels and hiding them up his sleeve, doing his best to ignore the burning heat against his skin as he made his way through the small crowd as nonchalantly as possible.

By the time his act of survival was noticed (for a man that meticulous about his wares always knew how many dumplings he had left), the suspicious young man from the city to the north had vanished without a trace.

 

* * *

 

 

The sensation of a full stomach was intoxicating, and Adrien found it harder and harder to argue himself out of thieving. A few dumplings here, some fruit there, a handful of rice – hardly enough to make an impact, but enough to keep him sated. He was used to eating more, his metabolism demanding he eat more, and he was disappointed to find himself thinning out even more than he already had been. He became even more lean, even more toned as his body was forced to push itself with endurance more than combat, and he grew used to the sensation of dirt and grime on his skin that hid his pale undertones darkened his hair.

Washing his face in a river one day he was amazed to find freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, never having spent enough time in the sun before for them to make an appearance. His skin was slowly tanning with an olive hue, and despite the fact that he looked half-starved and wore rags, he'd never felt better in himself.

At first he found himself craving human contacts, and although he'd tried his luck with a few other teenagers in the various villages, most kept their distance. A strange boy travelling on his own with no belongings and no money was a warning sign to even the most ignorant of citizens, and eventually he gave up trying altogether. It was easier to stifle disappointment when there wasn't any hope to feed it to begin with.

As the villages grew in size and the distance between them the inverse, he began to realise that he was drawing near to another large settlement. He knew little of the ones beyond the small empire his father was building, the names of the towns burned to the ground forgotten when they were no longer a threat to his power. He wished now that he had been able to study the surrounding area more, unsure of whether or not approaching a city was a wise idea. On the one hand, stealing food would be far easier. On the other hand, there would be more people around to apprehend him.

What was he even planning to do with his life now? A life as a stray didn't sound much fun to him, and then there was the matter of his father's continued ambition to consider.

He had no doubt that the man would search for him, even if not personally. Adrien was his “pride and joy” insofar as he could fight and he could look pretty, and nobody crossed Gabriel Agreste. Nobody.

To return to that life after running away would be a death sentence, and Adrien was finding that he was actually quite enjoying the opportunity to live.

All he had with him was his fighting prowess, and he wasn't sure where that would get him. Perhaps he would be able to find some work as a guard or a soldier, but that could mean becoming involved with fighting against the imperials; either the locals would straight up reject him and accuse him of being a spy, or someone in the imperial army would recognise him on the field.

He sighed heavily as he picked the crude lock of the storeroom door, glad that he didn't need the light of the moon to help him with this task any more. Practice made perfect, and this was a cheap and poorly-made attempt to keep thieves out in the first place. It was an overcast night and although the lack of moonlight did mean he was a little more hesitant in his steps, it also meant he didn't have to put as much effort into hiding. Blond hair was a menace for reflecting light, after all, no matter how dull and lackluster it was now.

Slowly edging the door open with an effort not to sound any squeaks, Adrien slipped inside and pushed it to, taking a moment to survey his surroundings. A couple of burlap sacks of grain, some freshly harvested herbs and some salted meat that would no doubt be used the following day. He wasn't cruel enough to deprive the owner of that luxury (nor did he possess the motivation to cook and prepare meat; too messy for a life on the run), but he hadn't been able to access herbs or vegetables in some time. He silently padded over and glanced down, deft fingers rummaging through and selecting some nice pieces that hopefully wouldn't be missed, palming them and sliding them into the small pouch he kept at his waist for such an occasion.

It was as he went to the sack of grain that his hair stood up on the back of his neck, and sheer instinct alone was the only thing that stopped him from taking a punch straight in the gut.

He barely had time to think as something sharp rapped against the back of his knee, solid and heavy and causing him to buckle down hard. In the same instant something pressed against his side, a sharp and pointed knee ramming into his lower back at the same time as body mass was pressed down on his shoulder, forcing him into the ground. He was aware of fingers tightly knotting in his hair and yanking back, twisting his head at a painful angle as angry breathing filled his senses. A pair of murderous blue eyes locked onto his own and narrowed dangerously.

“So you're the imperial bastard who's been stealing in these parts,” a distinctly feminine voice growled lowly, tugging a little on his hair just to remind him to watch his tongue.

“I prefer the term 'borrowing on the long-term,” he responded with a wince, wishing he could draw a proper breath that wasn't half filled with dust and dirt from the floor. Didn't these country folk ever sweep their floors?

She certainly wasn't impressed with his poor attempt at humour and growled again, manhandling his arms behind him and pinning him with her knees, and soon enough he could feel the tell-tale sensation of rope being looped around his wrists and cutting off his circulation. She was silent as she worked, but that didn't mean he had to be.

“Being tied up in a dark room and being straddled by a beautiful lady. Some people might get the wrong idea, princess.”

Whatever small, idiotic part of his brain had decided that his nervous reflex would be to flirt could go to hell.

“I hope asphyxiation is one of your kinks, rat, because the only future for someone like you is a nice execution. You imperials like your hangings, don't you?”

She was a feisty one, it seemed, though the hostile banter was doing nothing for his attempt to hold his silence.

“Death penalty? I didn't think rice was worth so much. Are you having a bit of an economic crisis down south? I was hoping for _Zhàng_ , personally,” he commented with a melodramatic sigh, making reference to the punishment practice of being beaten with a stick. He didn't really know much about the punishment system outside of the Imperial practice, but he was pretty sure lashings were the standard response to stealing.

He grunted as she hoisted him roughly to his knees, biting down a retort that he could stand himself, and felt her fingers tighten their hold on the rope binding his arms. From that one motion alone he could feel the strength she must have in her arms, and a small amount of him was impressed. Another part of him resented the fact that she had caught him off guard and half-starved – he was sure he wouldn't have been taken out so easily otherwise. She had no patience for letting him balance himself as she promptly dragged him out, kicking the door shut behind her.

She offered no explanation as she made her way on to the dirt track leading out of the city, and he didn't dare test how tightly she'd knotted the rope while her hand was gripping on to it. He didn't need to give her any reason to think he was trying to escape. He would, of that he was certain, but he needed to bide his time for the perfect opportunity.

He dragged his feet as they walked, resisting whenever she shoved him to move faster. It was late at night, and he was tired, hungry and sore. She could be a little nicer to him, surely, or at least try and be understanding. It wasn't like he was stealing for fun. He just hadn't felt safe enough (or welcome enough) to try and settle down anywhere.

The silence was starting to bore him as the minutes dragged on, and he could still make very little of her shape out in the dark whenever he craned his neck to look back over his shoulder at her. Those eyes never seemed to lose their hostility, each second daring him to push her patience.

He never had had much self-control when it came to anything outside of fighting – especially not if he was going to get a reaction out of it.

He really needed to find a new coping mechanism.

“So, since I'm positively dying under the oppressive heat of your generosity, might I be able to trouble you for a name?”

The answer he got was a solid shove in his back, causing him to stumble over his feet a moment and half drop to his knees, only to be hoisted right back up again and made to hurry up.

_Holy- did she do all that with only one hand?_

He fell into a meek silence for the time being, gaze down to the floor and making sure he didn't stumble over any loose stones or fall down any holes in the path. He didn't particularly feel like being emasculated by this mysterious girl any more than he already had been.

Still, patience not being one of his main virtues, it wasn't much longer before he was glancing back over his shoulder, and luck must have been on his side for once as the clouds broke overhead, allowing a soft glow to diffuse over them both.

She had a round face, soft features like himself, with full lips pulled tight in a tense grimace. Her large eyes were focused on him with a lethality to them, long lashes only serving to emphasis the deep blue colour of her irises. He could see already that she was a local through and through, but the way she carried herself would make most of the men in the Empire quiver in a mixture of intrigue and fear.

Dark hair was pulled back into twin bunches and tied with ribbons, a fringe falling over her forehead and dusting over her eyes. He couldn't see much of her body or clothing, but she seemed to be wearing red and black robes. A mask of the same colours sat on her face to conceal most of her appearance, red silk with black dots that were only just visible in the dark light.

He wasn't aware that he was staring until she reached up with her free hand and clobbered him roughly about the back of the head, forcing him to face front and drop his gaze once more. She was pretty, he couldn't deny it, but her stand-offish nature was more than a little off-putting.

As starved as he might have been for human contact, he may as well have been dying of thirst and presented with a glass of sand. He only felt as lonely with her as he had been without, except now he didn't know where the future was taking him and, once more, it was entirely out of his control.

They walked for hours through the night and he found himself moving in a daze, letting his brain sleep while his body continued to walk. It was only when she jolted him as dawn was breaking that he stirred once more, and the sight of glistening rooftops in a city nestled in the bosom of the valley before them piqued his interest.

“The name's Ladybug,” she spoke for the first time since meeting him, and he was envious of the fact that she didn't sound tired at all, “Prepare yourself to be judged, imperial, and pray the authorities are lenient on you. I'm taking you straight to see Master Fu.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette has a thing for blonds in much the same way as she does for vipers.  
> In other words, she doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I am so so sorry for the delay in this update. I've been very busy the past few weeks with friends visiting, family visiting, a big birthday and exams, not to mention I've had a fair amount of decision changing things going on with where I want this story to go.
> 
> It's mostly planned out now and my life has calmed down infinitely, so I'm hoping to get some more chapters out soon.
> 
> Also I just want to apologise for the filler nature of this chapter - it had been half written for ages and I can't seem to get it to play ball. Butt-kicking will be resumed in the next chapter~

As horrific days went, Marinette was pretty sure that this one qualified in her top three. Or the whole weekend did, really, which had been less than ideal in her eyes.

To start with, being sent on a delivery to one of the villages had seemed just a little degrading, but she hadn't been too annoyed with the request by itself. She did enjoy helping other people out with the knowledge that she'd done something to assist them, and sometimes it was nice to get out of the town as well, but to her it had felt as if Master Fu just wanted her out of the way for a day or so and she really didn't appreciate that concept. Although she knew that she was the strongest of his students (by a considerable margin), she was almost constantly feeling insecure about the attention he gave the others. Her bond with him felt more like that of a father and daughter than merely master and student, what with everything he'd done for her after the tragedy that had left her alone in the world, so when she saw him giving private lessons to Vixen she couldn't help the nervous bubbling of jealousy low in her gut.

A jealousy that made her feel sick to think about.

She didn't consider herself to be a selfish person, not normally, or even a jealous one, but she couldn't deny the fact that she was the best at what she did. It was just a fact. Everyone loved her, her kind smile and her eager to please attitude. She fought off rebels, thieves, invaders, everything that threatened their settlement of peace, and she did it with ease and grace and determination on her face.

_So why was Master Fu teaching the other students and sending her away as a delivery girl?_

Nonetheless, the trip to the village had been peaceful enough and incident-free, and she'd had the fortune to fall in with a group of merchants who were more than willing to keep her company on the walk. The masked students of the legendary Master Fu were infamous in their own rights as defenders of peace and well-rounded, educated individuals. The fact that they never revealed their identities only made them more mysterious, and some people treated them as spiritual guardians rather than just dedicated warriors.

In fact, seeing the little ladybug painted on the side of their carriage as a symbol of protection filled her heart with warmth, and she found herself once more considering how blessed she was to be able to provide such a sense of security to the people.

They had parted ways at her destination after a journey of easy chatter, the merchants gifting her with some of their food in thanks for her pleasurable company before heading back onto the road, leaving her to make her deliveries within the village and spending the rest of her time generally checking up on how everyone was doing, on whether or not they needed more of a certain supply, or if there were any insecurities or rumours regarding the Empire to the north.

It was by doing this that she found out about the lone imperial that had been spotted some villages away, supposedly making his way south and towards their current destination. Curious and feeling the habitual flare of anger whenever she thought about those European invaders, Marinette had decided to stick around, just to see if he would turn up in the village as they expected.

She wasn't disappointed. It was late evening when she spotted him, a ragged, scrawny looking thing who was clearly doing his best to be inconspicuous and failing abysmally. He had the biggest baby face she'd ever seen on a male, with eyes so green they shook her to her core. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a pedigree imperial through and through, and if his light complexion and golden hair hadn't set him apart from the rest of the villagers, his stunning good looks would have left him lingering in most people's minds. A looker like that was hard to forget.

She spent the rest of the evening stalking him from a distance, not that stealth was an issue for her, watching him like a hawk to see if she could catch him in the act. He ambled through markets and eyed wares as shops were closing, but she didn't see any sleights of hand or any trouble at all. He kept himself to himself and avoided conversation where possible, and she began to suspect that perhaps he didn't have a grasp of the language. It wouldn't surprise her, really. Most of the imperials they came across had enough vocabulary to make seedy comments or demands at most, and she loathed that more than anything.

She was beginning to believe that he might not have any poor intent for this village when she finally caught sight of him sneaking off behind the houses and towards the storerooms. Remaining hidden, she watched him pick a lock on one of the doors with ease, and saw him slip inside. Knowing she had him cornered, she wasted no time in grabbing the nearest cane she could and diving in, apprehending him in a few short moves. With her knee jammed hard in his back and using some “borrowed” rope from the cupboard beside her in the storeroom (she was a local hero, she had some leeway when it came to stealing with good reason) to keep his hands pinned behind his back, and he had to open his big, stupid mouth.

Just like so many of the other imperials she'd come across, and the first thing he said in that lilting French accent of his was a flirty insinuation. Sure, it was better structured and more complicated than the usual comments she got, but he still flirted. Her patience was already stretched thin when confronted with an imperial who wronged her countrymen, so she was shamelessly rough with him as she hoisted and dragged him off to the road, forcing him to keep walking even though she could feel that he was exhausted. He was skinny, too skinny in fact, but she could see that he was toned under his loose clothes. It made her wary, unsure as to what form of European art he'd been trained in. Fencing maybe? Not that she cared enough to ask.

The trip back to her town had been rather uneventful, really, and infinitely better once her prisoner decided to shut up. When they arrived it was still early morning, most people in their beds, but she knew that her fellow students and master at the palace would be awake already.

She noticed her prisoner eyeing his surroundings curiously, tension in his body lessening as he seemed more interested in studying the buildings around him, no doubt so different from what he was used to. He was probably judging their more rural architecture, their herb gardens and their bunting and lanterns, considering them to be of lesser quality than the structured and rigid style of the Empire.

Her mood took a turn for the worse, urging him on faster.

She took some small satisfaction as she felt him tense under her grasp as they approached the great number of stairs that lead up to the palace that overlooked the town, but she hadn't anticipated the lightning fast speed with which he dropped his whole body weight to the ground and into a roll, forcing her to let go of the rope behind him, and before she could tackle him he'd sidestepped her, light on his toes and with a dark glint in his expression. He looked even more bedraggled than before, exhaustion pinching at his features, but there was a burning in his eyes that seemed to be the only thing keeping him going.

She darted forward to grab him once more but he was nimble on his feet, and she only found her annoyance growing. Fortunately his hands still remained bound behind his back, because at least that way he couldn't make to climb anything, but his constant evasion was only serving to rile her up. She could see his eyes darting around him wildly as he continued to side-step and avoid her, although with all his effort being put into dodging her he didn't have any opportunities to lash out.

She saw him make a dart for her left and moved to meet him, arm moving to block the light kick he made at her, though was surprised when her merely used her as a springboard to push off into the other direction and bolted. She had not suffered his presence for the whole journey back only to let him loose to wreak havoc on the town now.

She was not a failure.

Still, he didn't make it easy for her. Grabbing one of the canes used for temporary garden fences she took aim and launched it at him, growling in annoyance as he twisted his body to knock it aside with his shoulder. Darting between buildings and weaving around the few people that were out and about, she kept close to his tail but not close enough to catch him properly. She frowned as she watched his gaze seemingly follow something flitting past his face and off to the left before he turned his attention back to the route he was taking on his right.

The only thing she was sure of was this her stamina was better than his, and whatever burst of adrenaline he was blessed with would be short lived, with any luck.

Fortunately for her, she had that in abundance.

Then again, she wasn't sure whether it was her fortune or his lack of it that finally stopped his attempted escape. A short creak up above her was the only warning she had before she saw the wooden sign of the local apothecary shop drop right on top of him, colliding with his head with a solid thump and sending him sprawling to the floor.

She wasted no time and immediately pounced him, straddling him and holding him down by the back of his neck even though, despite being dazed, he still seemed intent on fighting her.

“Let go of me,” he growled, groaning as he tried and failed to wriggle free once more. She hissed, grabbing his bound wrists and wrenching them up higher, satisfied when she felt him tense in discomfort beneath her.

“Shouldn't have tried to run, pretty boy.”

She could see the corner of a shit-eating grin on his face from where it lay pressed into the dirt, glancing to her from the corner of his eye.

“You think I'm pretty.”

She didn't bother to respond to that, pulling him bodily upright once more and cuffing him harshly on the back of the head, meaning to subdue him once more. He was really, really pushing her patience to the limit and he wasn't exactly providing her with any incentives to make an effort in the first place.

Left with the joyful task of dragging him towards the palace yet again, Marinette allowed herself to wallow in her frustration. She was very much looking forward to handing him over to Master Fu to deal with and then taking some precious time to herself to cool off. She didn't normally have an issue with her temper, but it appeared she'd found her trigger in the form of a smart-ass imperial.

He fought her the whole way up the steps, digging his feet in and pushing back with seemingly little to no fear of falling down them, even after she'd tugged him backwards in a threat once or twice. Clobbering him and shoving him seemed to have no effect on him, and he didn't appear to care about her promises of punishment if he didn't co-operate. By the time she finally arrived at the top she was prepared for him to slump to the floor, gloating internally in the fact that he was panting and out of breath, trembling a little as his body protested the effort it had just expended.

She looked up to see Master Fu, as expected, the man watching the two of them with an unusually smug expression on his face as he ran his fingers over his trademark facial hair, although she knew better than to ask what was on his mind. He had a habit of talking in riddles or just plain avoiding the answer, and as much as she respected him and adored him, she wasn't sure she was in the mood for his roundabout mannerisms. Not until she'd had a good sleep, anyway.

The boy at her feet looked up to him as well and met his gaze solidly, making Marinette bristle at his boldness. Didn't he realise that he was in the presence of one of the greatest Kung Fu masters ever to live?

“I had heard rumours of a thief in the south,” Fu spoke softly, approaching them at a slow and measured pace, making Marinette wonder just how quickly word had travelled. He seemed to be sizing the prisoner up, a thoughtful smile gracing his lips after only a moment's hesitation. “I did not expect it to be you.”

For some reason this seemed to get more of a reaction out of the male than she had anticipated, feeling him immediately flinch and shuffle back a bit.

“I'm not who you think I am,” he spoke quickly, voice trembling with a hint of fear. Master Fu chuckled softly, folding his arms over his chest.

“I fear you are mistaken, child, for it is you who are not who you think you are.”

The blond's head dropped miserably, posture emanating a sense of resignation and defeat. Master Fu let the silence drag on a little, watching him studiously, before looking up and catching Marinette's eyes.

“Please, untie him.”

“Master?” she questioned, although she was already moving to follow through with his wishes against her better judgement. “Is that wise? He'll just run again.”

“I think you'll find he won't. I wish to speak with him alone. I believe the proper judgement shall be reached soon enough.”

Feeling more than a little puzzled, she did as she was asked and loosened the ties, recoiling the rope as she stepped back and away from him. Fu gestured with a hand for her to leave them be, motioning for her to return to their quarters to freshen up, and as she made to follow through with his request she couldn't help but feel that bubbling insecurity in her gut once more, refusing to admit that she could be jealous of the look her master was giving this European brute.

She hadn't seen him give anyone such a fatherly gaze since he last looked at her.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my, he's pretty cute, isn't he? Just look at those cheeks, and oh, those eyes!”

“An imperial though... What do you suppose he's doing so far south..?”

“Doesn't matter, does it? He's got the mask – it looks like he's one of us, now. What name do you suppose he's been given?”

“No idea, but I do wonder what he said to Master that convinced him to let him join? I didn't think we'd get any new students, all things considered.”

Leaving her room after washing her face and changing into fresh clothes, Marinette frowned as she heard the voices of her fellow brother and sisters in arms as they watched the courtyard from the open door of their quarters, all peeking round the frame in an attempt to be subtle about it, not that they were being very successful. She couldn't have heard right, could she?

“I'm sorry, but did I just hear you mention a mask?” She questioned, unable to help the instinctive darkening of her eyes at the mere suggestion of it all. The mask of a warrior was an honour unlike anything else, and she had to be hearing things, surely. There was no way that that little upstart could be granted such a boon.

The dark brown-haired Vixen turned to look at her with a gleeful light in her almond eyes, nodding enthusiastically with her lips curled back in a toothy grin. Out of the four of them she was the most excitable, always looking for gossip to sink her teeth into and spread around her, especially if it brought more attention back to her in the long term. Still, Marinette did like her at least a little bit in spite of her egocentric nature, even if she found her a smidgen too wily at times, but she was a loyal soul and had a good heart in her.

“Yeah, Master's just talking to him now! Dressed him up all in black with this matching mask on him,” Vixen explained, folding her arms under her bust and leaning easily against the wooden door frame, ever the picture of poise and elegance. She twitched her head quickly to the side, flicking a strand of hair from her face in the process, before searching Marinette's own with a suddenly curious gaze. “So, come on, Lady, you've spent the most time with him – what's he like? He looks like a dreamer. Is he single? Ooh, does he have an accent?”

She felt her expression darken even more as her words sank in, not feeling at all happy with the way this situation was panning out. This northern thief stole from their people, and Master Fu punished him by taking him on as his fifth student? A position most people could only dream of achieving? She'd seen warriors from all over the nation travel to try and impress him with their talents only to be kindly turned away with promises that their destinies lay elsewhere. She hadn't seen much in this little rat, and it concerned her that their master had possibly been tricked with some sob story or elaborate lie.

She knew better than that, though. Master Fu was far wiser than any of them could ever hope to be.

“He'd no better than any other Imperial scum,” Marinette responded, scanning out over the courtyard as she did. Vixen was right; his clothing now consisted of smart black robes, cinched at the waist with a belt that appeared knotted at the back where it trailed in a mockery of a tail, and trousers that clung to his form in a slender fit, all while that mask that perched on his nose continued taunting her.

She was not going to work with him. It was bad enough having a new person throwing a spanner into the works of their delicately balanced social sphere, let alone some foreigner. They were all murderers or pillagers with no respect for the nature or harmony of the world, and there was no doubt in her mind that all this thief would gain from this experience would be an unnecessary power complex.

Almost as if he knew they were watching him, the stranger's gaze raised and that piercing green gaze caught her own, staring at her with an odd worry to them. She held it, unimpressed, and was inwardly pleased when he quickly dropped it with a submissive tilt of his head.

“He'll learn his place,” she murmured, fully aware of the glances the other students were sharing with each other. Her dominant streak wasn't unheard of, but at the same time it wasn't exactly common. She had the pride of being the strongest fighter between them and they respected her, but when she started posturing it was never going to go well. Sure, the most recent occasion had been some rising tension between herself and Vixen, but that had (mostly) been resolved by that point and the two had found common ground.

That didn't mean that the next few months weren't going to be horribly painful for all bystanders involved.

Or, knowing Ladybug's intrinsic hatred of Imperials, the rest of their lives were going to be one eternal moment of collateral damage.

Master Fu wasn't long waving them over with a single gesture, motioning for the boy to stand at his side, and Marinette squared her shoulders before stepping out first, sensing the others following behind her at a slightly more nervous pace, everyone anticipating the meeting with their new companion with varying degrees of enthusiasm.


	3. Chapter 3

Adrien was no stranger to alpha posturing, but never before had he felt so weak and insecure around others of his own age. Back in the Imperial City it was everyone else who bowed to him, cowered, looked up to him (within reason, but Félix had always sorted out any trouble makers. In hindsight, people only ever feared the shadow that stalked him, be it his brother-in-arms or his father), but he was positively trembling in his boots as the four warriors made their way over to him.

They all carried themselves with an air that exuded confidence and power, graceful yet strong, their hidden identities only adding to the sense of mystery behind them. He, on the other hand, had never felt more exposed in his life stood there helplessly, clad in plain black clothes and a black mask.

He didn't like the mask. He could understand and appreciate its use in hiding his real self from the world, but it drew the eye, only succeeded on putting him on yet another impossibly high pedestal from which he could do nothing but fail. Master Fu had explained the importance of the Fated Four (well, Five now), how they were hand picked by him to defend the innocent peoples of their land from whatever danger may arrive.

“But I _am_ the danger,” Adrien had argued, looking down miserably at his loosely clasped hands. “The greatest danger to anyone is the city I called home.”

Master Fu had merely placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, smiling up at him with a glint in his eye that definitely made Adrien believe the man was planning something big.

“There are two things you said in that that only confirm that you are the one I've been waiting for.”

He hadn't elaborated, but he also hadn't really given Adrien a choice about joining them. When he'd hesitated, he'd merely inquired as to whether or not he had a place to go to or to return to, and after a prolonged silence he placed the black mask in his hand and told him to freshen up and change into the clothes he would find in the spare room before returning to him.

Eyeing the clothes that had been neatly folded and placed on the sleeping mat, he had been overcome with a sense of dread. They were his size. They were perfectly his size. Had he been expecting him? How long had he been planning for this? It could have just been a coincidence, but gut instinct said otherwise.

He had let the mask slip from his hands, bringing his fingers up to knot in his hair before taking a deep, calming breath. He had to remind to himself that these past few weeks had left him in utter turmoil, and that it was only natural that he was going to be shaken up by every little thing that happened from then on.

He'd felt something land on his shoulder and reached up to brush it off, knowing he was only going to be inundated with bugs now that he was further south. To his annoyance, it had flown off before landing somewhere on his back, and every time he shook it off it kept returning. _Great_.

Still, eventually he'd given in, knowing that the old master was right. He couldn't return home, and he was tired of running. He might be safe here, if only for a little, somewhere he could sleep and eat and regain what life he used to have.

Seeing the Four spread out in a semi-circle in front of him, he was beginning to believe that he should have cut his losses and run for it. Three pairs of eyes studied him with an intense curiosity, but the fourth's gaze made him want to curl up and disappear through the floor. Ladybug was even more glamorous now that she'd had chance to clean up after the journey and change into some fresh clothes, now sporting a gorgeous long red silk robe, peppered with black dots and lined in a shimmering gold. He had the unfortunate and unpleasant experience of his heart skipping a beat as he was drawn in by her beauty, her charisma, the whole _her_ that he could see, while at the same time his stomach lurched and threatened to embarrass him by vomiting everywhere in pure terror at the murderous glare that bore straight into him.

He turned his gaze from her quickly as Master Fu introduced the other warriors, who at least seemed to be more welcoming.

Vixen was a little taller than Ladybug but still shorter than himself, her skin a darker shade while her hair was a little lighter, warm eyes seeming far too intelligent for their own good. Her robes were in a mixture of honey, gold and shades of amber, trimmed in a dark brown, and he noticed that she had two decorative ornaments in her hair that reminded him of fox ears. Every now and then he could see her sash flutter behind her like a tail in a similar style to his, although thicker and lighter, and he tried to politely ignore the way she was obviously checking him out. Any other day he would be flattered, but it was hard to feel confident when he was nothing more than a pile of bones with a skin coat.

Stood next to her was the only male of the group, known as Peacock. His outfit was by far the flashiest, shirt done in a gradient of blue to green that shimmered in the light with gold decals painted on around the edges and creeping up over one side of his chest. Long black hair was braided out of his face and twined with blue, green and gold ribbons, grey trousers seeming surprisingly plain for the rest of his extravagant outfit. Adrien's immediate impression was that he was a little reserved, perhaps shy, but the little smile he offered was nice enough.

The third of the unknown members was a short girl, very petite, who looked far younger than the rest of them. Her hair was cropped close to her face and framed wide eyes, a little button nose doing nothing to deter the image of a ten year old girl. She was bouncing a little on the balls of her feet as if she were a coiled bundle of energy, dressed in bright yellow and black stripes, and when she was introduced as Honey Bee he really, really wasn't surprised.

“As I'm sure you've gathered,” Master Fu continued, “I have decided to take this young man under my wing. I expect you all to treat Black Cat fairly and without prejudice” - the look shot at Ladybug in particular confused Adrien a moment - “And to help him develop as you have helped each other.”

Black Cat? Ah, that explained the belt tail.. It seemed a fitting name for him, though, even if it did deal him a blow of homesickness. What would Félix think if he knew that his little kitten was now a full-blown cat?

He rolled the name around his mind a few moments, knowing that he would have to start getting used to being called by it. Adrien was nothing more than a distant memory now, the last tie with a life he had been forced to abandon. Adrien had nothing but cold memories and an unpleasant future upon his return. Black Cat had promise – he was a blank canvas. He could write his own story. No longer would he be ruled by the blood in his veins or the name he bore, burdened by the weight of a father's expectations.

Black Cat was an enigma, a loner, a fighter. He may have a duty to protect the villagers but it was a duty he would do more than willingly.

“Master.”

He was drawn from his thoughts, looking up as Ladybug stepped forward, and he could see the other warriors collectively step back, if only a little. By the looks on their faces they knew what she was going to say, and they all very much looked as if they would rather be elsewhere.

She opened her mouth to continue, but Master Fu raised a hand to silence her, something she respected immediately.

“I know what you are going to say, my dear. I know your fears, your concerns. They are not for me to mention now, but they are something you are going to have to face before you can reach your full potential.”

Her lips pursed at his words but she did lower her gaze after a moment, Black Cat eyeing her curiously. After seeing her so fired up the night before (and that morning), it was quite alarming to see her so.. Subdued.

“The day and the night may have nothing in common,” he continued, “But together they can paint the world gold.”

 

* * *

 

The group were sent their separate ways for the afternoon, the others having chores or specific exercises to be working on, while Black Cat was given the tour of the facilities; his room, the kitchen, the pantry, the wash house, the gardens. The library was what really caught his interest, a great room filled with scrolls upon scrolls that towered above his head, paintings that hung from the walls and elaborate pottery filling the spaces between.

Seeing the boy's face light up, Master Fu had left him to his own devices, telling him to spend the day eating and settling in before his own training would commence the following day. He was eager to see what skills he already possessed, but he'd assured him that if he'd managed to get Ladybug into such a frustrated twist then he must have something special.

“Why doesn't she like me?”

He froze, hand hovering over a scroll without touching. The words had left his mouth before he'd had chance to filter them through his brain, shutting his lips together firmly as he realised that he'd likely overstepped his boundaries, adding a belated “Master” in an attempt to redeem himself, if only a little.

To his surprise the older man had only chuckled, pausing in the doorway through which he was about to leave and stroking the end of his beard with a thoughtful smile.

“There are many reasons to dislike something, my child,” he had begun, pacing very slowly round the room while his newest protégé stood stock still in the middle and looking thoroughly abashed. “The deer does not like the hunter for the hunter brings death. The bird does not like the rain for it brings cold. The child does not like the toy for its colour does not suit. Sometimes there are things we do not like for reasons beyond out control. Nobody actively chooses to dislike something, but with time our tastes can change.”

He had left straight after, not allowing the boy any chance to question his words, and Adrien was left standing in a confusion. His mind drifted to his own likes and dislikes, and tried to overlay them with the things that Master Fu had just told him. One thing he hated more than anything was the sound of thunder, the way it rumbled across the sky, building and building and echoing within his room. The static in the air made him feel uneasy, the sporadic flashes of lightning illuminating his surroundings seemingly at random. It left him on edge, it made him anxious.

Did he have a choice about his feelings? No.

Could he change them if he really wanted to?

Now that was something he wasn't sure about at all.

He returned his attention to the scrolls in front of him, picking some out and idly regarding them, trying to find something that would catch his interest. There were loads upon loads detailing various aspects of their martial art, some he knew already, some he didn't, but he suspected he would be best waiting to see what it was Master Fu would want to teach him. He found one that detailed the life-force of the universe, but the second he saw the character _chi_ he recoiled, very nearly dropping the scroll in the process, and shoved it back in to its place.

His heartbeat had picked up considerably, thumping erratically against his rib cage, and he immediately stepped over to another side of the room, mentally talking to himself about anything and everything, wanting to distract himself from-

_Darkness. Screaming. Cackling. The crackling static of power._

-Scrolls on herbology. Yes, that was definitely something he wanted to read.

Flicking through them while ignoring the shake of his hand, he was more than a little surprised to find some written in French. Had Imperial traders really come this far south? And heck, had the illustrious temple actually agreed to trade with them? The scrolls still seemed to be fairly new and in good condition, so he collected an armful of them and tucked them safely against his chest, grabbing a couple of the Chinese translations as well so that he could brush up on some vocabulary. He may have a near fluent grasp of the native language, but he was raised in the heart of the French colony and as such he would always be stronger in his mother tongue.

Deciding that it would be a waste of a good day he was soon making his way out to the gardens, settling down with his back to the large tree that governed it and resting one leg bent, soon unrolling the first scroll to look through it.

The text was in an extremely neat hand, a woman's if he had to guess, describing various herbal mixtures and tinctures to treat everything from sprains and open wounds to migraines and allergies. He made a mental note to study the allergy remedies further on the off-chance there was anything he might be able to use for his issue with feathers (and he swore if Peacock had any fancy formal wear with feathers on he was going to have to get really catty with whoever was in charge of their wardrobes), and continued reading down.

It was well known within the Empire that the traditional Chinese remedies were about twelve notches above the quality of their own European knowledge. While the Imperials may have a slightly stronger grasp of anatomy and skeletal structure, he swore most of their solutions were either “just sew it up and it'll be fine” or “maybe that reaction was a fluke – let's try again”.

Heavens knew he'd had enough trouble with his father's various doctors trying to work out what could be done with his allergies. Every time they though of something new to try they sat him down with a basket of feathers and in the end he just couldn't deal with it any more and begged his father to stop trying.

He lost himself four hours in those scrolls, cross-referencing the translations, practising new characters in the dirt with the end of a broken twig. He found the gardens here to be ridiculously soothing, with the trickle of a stream somewhere behind him and the fresh scent of pollen emanating from the countless flowers planted and cared for around the perimeter. It was practically silent, with only the sounds of his own breathing and the natural ambience to distract him, and he'd gotten so engrossed in his reading that he didn't even notice the approaching footsteps.

“Ew, is that French?” came the lilting voice of Vixen as she peered over his shoulder, satisfied with the embarrassed yelp he let out in surprise. She stifled a giggle behind a demure hand as smoothed his scroll back out, looking up at her with pouting lips and a childish frown on his face.

“Didn't anybody teach you that it's rude to sneak up on people?”

“No~” Vixen grinned, sliding to the ground opposite him with her legs crossed, elbows on her knees with her body weight leaning eagerly toward him. He couldn't help but tilt his own centre of balance slightly further back, not happy with his personal space being intruded on so quickly. “In fact Master Fu encourages it. It's my strength.”

He raised a pointed eyebrow at that but she only laughed more brightly, reaching up to idly play with one of the bunches at the front of her face. For the most part she wore her hair down, but it seemed she didn't like her fringe to get in the way. The way they bounced made him want to reach out and bat them, if they were playing the game of living up to their namesake.

“I'm guessing you finished all your work, then?” he questioned, sensing he wouldn't get much more reading done with her there. She nodded, humming quietly as her eyes roamed over him.

“Honey dear's just cooking us up some food now, so she sent me to come and find you. We take it in turns to cook but you can have a week's grace period while we fit you into the routine. We have a rota for all sorts of chores, so enjoy your free time while you can. Also,” she paused, leaning in a little more with a glint in her eyes, “You _do_ know how to cook the local cuisine, right? Not to sound insulting but the food you Imperials eat is disgusting.”

“I can cook,” he responded, turning his attention back to gathering all the scrolls before standing, brushing the dirt off his robes. At least they were black, it should hopefully mean they were a little easier to keep clean.

It also meant he was almost certainly going to die when the warmer months hit, but he liked to think that Black Cat would be the sort of guy to live for the now and not consider future consequences.

It still felt insanely weird thinking of himself as a different persona.

“I think the better question is how long you're all only going to see me as an Imperial and not as the person underneath that?”

Vixen seemed to stop halfway through standing with a look of confusion on her face, and he turned to her fully with his head tilted in question at her response. She almost looked as if she hadn't considered it, which, well, was entirely possible.

“Well it's what you are, isn't it? It's clear you don't have a drop of Eastern blood in you. What's the problem with it?”

What was the problem with it? Where could he even begin? He sighed and shook his head, muttering something about it not mattering and nudged a scroll that was starting to slide from his grasp into place. “I'm going to go and return these to the library and freshen up. I'll meet you in the dining room.”

Not waiting for a reply, he left her standing where she was and briskly put some distance between them, doing his best to ignore the sound of fluttering in his ears once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I apologise for the lack of any real action going on at the moment. Believe it or not I didn't even start on the part I had detailed in my notes for this chapter, but it just sort of.. Happened. As long as I don't get distracted (again) there should be some plot progress in chapter four, and an introduction to the concept of kwami in this verse.
> 
> (Also I didn't really put much effort into proof reading this chapter because my mind is already working on a chapter for one of my other fics, but I'll come back to edit this in a few days when I can look at it with fresh eyes. Usual deal, if there's anything majorly wrong please let me know so I can amend it! :3)
> 
> Finally thank you for the support for this so far <3 I'm going to do my best to try and combine the best aspects of the KFP universe with something fresh for you!

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: If you've seen the finale of season 1, you'll know why I'm inwardly squealing right now. I posted this before I saw the episode and the coincidence killed me inside.


End file.
